


Fingers tap into what you were once

by Pecidedlydale



Series: A Song of Scenes we'd like to see [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Assassin Arya, Concerned Gendry, F/M, Gendry is not a clown idiot, Post-Episode: s08e03 The Long Night, Protective Gendry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 03:25:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pecidedlydale/pseuds/Pecidedlydale
Summary: A different kind of post battle scene.No hasty proposals here I'm afraid. Not of marriage anyway.Arya/Gendry again. I have a lot of unresolved issues here, you will find book Gendry's character in these.





	Fingers tap into what you were once

_Fingers tap into what you were once_

_And I'm worried that I blew my only chance_

“So,” he said, leaning back against the wall she was perched upon. She had a small dish of chicken settled in her lap and as she picked the bones free of flesh she flung them each off the parapet into the surrounding rubble.

“You kill kings now, eh?” He smirked.

Her eyes slid across to him over her shoulder, barely crooking her head in his direction, and he could see her eyebrow raised slightly in disdain.

“And queens.” She slurred lazily, cheek full of chicken.

“Ah.” He muttered, grin spreading as he ducked his head towards hers conspiratorially, “should I be warning Daenerys? Or just Cersei?”

Arya sucked on the thin bare bone protruding from her mouth as though thoughtful, then pulled it out and tossed it lightly away, her eyes following its descent.

“I prefer to surprise them.” She said slowly, voice low so Gendry had to lean in closer. She turned her head so her eyes were inches from his. “I like the look in their eyes when they realise death is coming.” She tilted her head, eyes not leaving his, “The kill comes quick but that moment, when you see it in their eyes, the fear. It feels like the whole world is frozen. Like time’s stopped still. I like to stay in that moment. Drink it in.”

She turned away again, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly. “Cersei deserves that moment.” She said in her old voice, the one with energy and youth that he barely recognised now.

The smile had fallen slowly from his face as she spoke and he pulled away from the wall to look over it sternly.

He was cross now, no longer playful as he scanned the landscape. “Everyone acts like they don’t see it.” He decided. “Your brothers, your sister, your people.” Arya scoffed at that.

He turned with a jerky movement.

“Yeah. Your people. The folks who live in this big castle that your Lady mother and your Lord father raised you in. The one where you wore pretty dresses and rode pretty horses and rebelled against the world by getting your skirts dirty no doubt.” He was gesturing a little in a frustrated manner.

“Those people walking around, looking the other way, joking about the little lady with a sword. They’re pretending they don’t see it. Because it’s war and because the world is upside down right now. Because they need you as you are. No one wants to know what got you here. How you survived the hound and the riverlands and wherever you went after.”

He put his hand on her arm, pulling her to face him. “How you got those scars.” He glanced down quickly then straight back up at her face, a question in his blue Baratheon eyes.

She stared back at him patiently. He hadn’t asked her anything and what had she to give him anyway? He didn’t let go though. His eyes softened with his voice as he spoke again.

“You don’t scare me, Arya.” He said in a low, disapproving tone.

Arya stared on, surveying his face until discomfort made his eyes flicker away and back.

“Yes.” She decided. “I do.” She turned a small, sad smile at the edge of her cheek as she slowly pulled away from him to look back out at nothing.

“No.” Gendry insisted quietly, looking out aimlessly too, “What scares me isn’t you.”

He shook his head. “It’s what you’re scared to tell me.”

She snapped her head towards him at that and a scowl crossed her features that was reminiscent of the petulant little pup that had nipped and growled at him all along the kingsroad an entire age ago. She looked at him sternly before pushing her plate aside on to the wall and turning quickly to dismount it with a swift grace.

“Interesting,” she sneered as she began stepping lightly along the path of discarded chunks of stone scattered free from other dimensions of the castle walls. “How men always find a way to push their own fear off on women.”

She danced lightly as she turned pivot atop the mangled features of a shattered carving. A gargoyle from atop the northern tower perhaps, grimacing up at the night king’s assassin.

“So I’m afraid am I?” She asked coldly.

“Yeah.” He nodded stubbornly.

She sauntered back towards him “And what would you like to hear bull? Of Braavosi poisons that can turn a girl blind? Of the dark magic that can pull the sight back in a killer? Perhaps you’d like to hear how the sheep at the Twins were slaughtered by a wolf. Shall I tell you Lord Walder Frey’s final meal?”

“Tell me what you like.” He said, still cross.

“You know nothing of what I like.” She jeered curling her upper lip. “You’re looking for a girl who’s gone, Gendry.” Her eyes softened, just a little, and she stepped back.

“Go back down to the hall. Celebrate your victory with the others, get in your cups, find a pretty little survivor and show her your big hammer ‘til she swoons.”

She swiped her plate again from the wall and turn to walk away as he caught her on the arm. She didn’t turn back.

“It was nice.” She said, her back to him. “I enjoyed it and so did you but I killed a king and men and women and a fat little boy." She pulled her arm free slowly, still not turning to face him, "and I killed Arya Stark.”

He latched onto her arm immediately again. She pulled a little but he just moved closer.

“Arya.” He whispered, just like before. But before had been a dream, before had been a break, before she hadn’t killed death and remembered exactly who she was and what she wanted.

She turned back and looked up at him empty. “I’m going to kill the Queen Gendry. When that’s done, will you want to hear how? Will you want to see me do it? Would that convince you?”

“Do you think I haven’t killed?” Was his response, his tone sarcastic and his eyebrow snarkily raised.

“Do you think I haven’t done worse things in war than what we did as children? All I want to do is listen,” he said, “when you’re ready to tell.”

She shrugged at that and moved a little closer to him.

“What if I’m never ready to tell?”

Gendry smiled and moved in closer too. “I won’t make you.” He answered.

“I’ll make you dirks and daggers and swords and- hells I’ll make you a coat of dragonglass if you say that it’s your wish- I’ll make you a featherbed in forge somewhere out East if you like"

She coughed a short chuckle as he took the plate from her hand a tossed it behind him unconcerned, heard it shatter on the bricks with a slight giddiness.

He stooped down to wrap his arms around her waist and she smiled properly now, that childish little smile that had been surprising her often these past few weeks, leaned in and kissed him softly. Slowly.

He chuckled as he pulled away, shaking his head.

“ _I know nothing of what you like?_ What sort of talk is that.”  


"I wasn't wrong." She whispered back. "No featherbed. Not for me."


End file.
